The Crossroads
by Zimothy
Summary: Dean Winchester had a plan in life, ask anyone in his 9th grade class. Though, when the human whirlwind known as Castiel Hatfield comes to town, Dean's entire life suddenly goes off kilter.  Bridge to Terabithia prompt.
1. Hunters

**The Crossroads**

Dean had a routine. His routine was an every day, unchangeable routine that he'd set up the first day he got on the bus to Harper High School in Lawrence Kansas on August 27th of that year. Dean liked routines, he liked knowing what was going to happen and not making anything about life a mystery. His mother Mary had told him stories about deliquints who went about doing whatever the hell they wanted, when they wanted. Dean was the perfect son, and therefore would do the opposite.

However, a wrench was easily thrown into his plans mid-September of that same year when he stepped his way onto the school bus and stared for a moment at some new kid who'd decided to take residence in Dean's seat. Dean glanced at the bus driver, but Mrs. McCreedy just gave him an expectant eyebrow. Dean pursed his lips and started down the walkway, pausing for a moment next to his no-longer-vacant seat before sliding in next to the new boy.

No words were spoken, but the gaze that newbie had been concentrating out the window was suddenly all on Dean, and the freshman was starting to feel nervous about the attention. He glanced up through the corner of his eyes, but the kid was still staring - still looking like he was trying to decide if Dean was a test subject or someone unworthy of his time. Not one to be easily spooked, Dean stared straight out the front of the bus, fingers fiddling with the tear forming in the knee of his jeans.

The bus settled and pulled out of the school parking lot, but Dean swore he could still feel the kid staring him down.

Jo Harvelle, who sat next to him in his Math class and the seat in front of him on the bus, turned around with a pair of glasses in her hand. "Hey Dean." She greeted, holding up the objects and showing Dean that the lens had been popped out at some time. Dean reached forward to take them.

"Raphael shoved Ellie into the lockers and the lens came out when her glasses fell off. Can you fix them?"

Dean grinned, looking at her as if she'd asked the silliest question ever. "Doesn't look too hard." He said, staring down at his new project. It was easy to pop a pair of lenses back in, but it was still a delicate operation when you didn't have a miniature screwdriver handy. He tried to get the screw out with his fingernail, biting the tip of his tongue in concentration. A set of fingers came into his line of sight and Dean looked up to see the new kid holding a hand out.

"May I?" His voice was low - too low for his body - and rumbled through Dean's skin. Startled, Dean said nothing, staring back at the kid's creepily bright blue eyes. The new boy didn't seem affected, and gingerly took the glasses from Dean's grasp. In his other hand, he'd pulled out a miniature glasses kit. Dean stared at it and then at the kid while he quickly fixed the lens, and then moved on to tighten the nosepieces and hinges.

The boy reached up to hand the glasses back to Jo, who quickly gave them over to their owner. The blonde girl shoved them on her face with a smile, crinkling her nose to test the grips.

"Contrary to popular belief, spectacles are among manny common household items that do not recieve their required upkeep, and they often fall into disrepair." Said the new boy, his voice low and soft. Ellie and Jo looked at each other and then back again, smiling at the new kid. Dean didn't really notice, he was too busy still staring at the one person who'd usurped him of his only established duty - to fix things that were broken.

Dean's staring went mostly unnoticed, and the new kid held out a bony and slender hand to the freshman. "Castiel Hatfield. I am fourteen years young and my family and I just recently moved here from Miami, Florida." Dean numbly shook the kid's hand, though it was more of a grip and drop than anything. Castiel's fingers were chilly, but given that he was wearing a beige trenchcoat (how had he gotten that past administration?), Dean doubted the kid was all that cold.

Dean didn't tear his gaze from Castiel right away, trying to think of something, _anything_ to say to the one kid who'd pretty much kicked his daily routine in the metaphorical nutsack.

"Did you just recite half of the dictionary to me?" He blurted, eyes wide. Castiel seemed taken aback for a minute, but he smiled softly with a slow tilt of his head.

"No, but I can, if you want. I haven't gotten past 'e' yet, though." He seemed completely honest, and Dean couldn't stop the disbelieving laugh that bubbled up from his chest.

This reaction, surprisingly, seemed to offend Castiel somewhat, judging by the miffed look Dean recieved. Castiel quickly turned his head to look back out the window and Dean's laugh died down. He leaned forward until Castiel caught sight of him in his peripheral. "I'm Dean, Dean Winchester. I just turned fourteen this year."

Castiel glanced over to Dean, contemplating his words before speaking. "Winchester is a good name. Its very strong, you should never lose it."

Dean stared at him for a moment, grin faltering. Castiel stared and they both looked away at the same time, Dean murmuring, '_rrrriiiight'_ beneath his breath. Nothing else was said for the remainder of the bus ride, but Dean was surprised whenever Castiel also stood up upon reaching Dean's stop. They stepped off of the bus together and Castiel did nothing more than to nod at Dean and start heading down the road.

Dean waited, because Sam's Elementary school dropped off in an hour. He sat in the grass, pulling a book out from his backpack and opening it. He'd snatched it from his teacher's shelf in the classroom - she hadn't seemed to notice him grab it. The book itself seemed interesting enough, though there were a lot of words Dean had never really heard of before, and he kept having to reread sentences to make sure he understood what was being said.

Two chapters later, Sam's bus was pulling up and Dean shoved the book into his bag and stood as his little brother hopped off the bus. Sam's face lit up in a grin - though Dean wasn't really sure why. He waited every day for Sam to get out of school and they always walked home together.

"Dean!" Sam cried out in greeting. Dean waved and Sam instantly started babbling to Dean about everything and anything that'd happened at school that day. Dean grinned, listening and responding when necessary until they reached their house nearly a mile down the road. There was no sign of the Impala, which was expected. John usually didn't get home until nearly six during the weekdays. He'd said that was the price that came with being the best mechanic on this side of Kansas.

Sam burst in the front door and instantly there was a toddler screaming in delight as Adam streaked towards him. Dean let the door close to the sounds of Sam and Adam playing, and he went to roll the trash cans to the back of the house and get started on his chores. Once he'd finished with the yard and greenhouse, Dean came inside to the scent of his mother's cooking and the sounds of Sam talking and Adam yelling at the television.

"Hey, sweetheart." Mary called from the kitchen. Dean wandered into the kitchen, setting his backpack down on the table and looking up at his mother with a grin. Sam put his notebook into his backpack and slipped past Dean- most likely to put his things upstairs.

"Hey mom." Dean responded, sitting down and watching her cook for a moment. Mary hummed, swaying around the kitchen in a summer dress - as if outside, fall wasn't settling over them like an icy blanket. He opened his mouth to tell her about Castiel, but stopped at the sound of Sam yelling and Adam's shrieking laughter.

Mary gave Dean a look and he sighed, slipping out from behind the table and into the living room to see Adam chucking another toy car at Sam's head.

"STOP IT!" Sam screamed, arms thrown up over his head. Adam laughed loudly, mimicking Sam's yell and reaching to grab another car. Dean hurried over, picking up the toddler and tossing Adam up onto his shoulder.

"No! NO!" Adam yelled, kicking his legs and nearly nailing Dean in the gut. Dean huffed, swinging Adam around his shoulders and then under his arm until Adam's protests turned into startled laughter.

"Come on, monster." Dean grunted, thundering upstairs with Adam underneath his arm. It was nearly four, meaning Adam was most likely overdue for his nap. Adam's laughter turned into protests once more once he realized what Dean was trying to do.

It took nearly an hour to wear Adam down enough for the toddler to fall asleep. Dean returned downstairs to try and get some of his homework done while Sam and Mary talked about their days. Adam was up before the end of the hour, grumpy and tired and clinging to Mary's leg until John walked in the front door at six thirty. Things were chaos for a few moments before everyone settled down around the dinner table.

"How was school, Dean?" Mary asked softly. John grunted in agreement to her question, shoveling potatoes into his mouth and looking at his oldest son. Dean stirred his dinner around before answering it.

"There was a new kid. He got off at this stop. I think he lives around here." Dean said, stuffing a roll into his mouth. "He stares. a lot." He mumbled around his food. Mary waved her spoon around thoughtfully.

"You know, I thought I saw moving trucks here earlier today. Someone must have bought that old mansion down the road." She said, sipping at her sweet tea. John grunted, eating a slice of steak and nodding at his plate.

"Heard about that at the shop today. Some woman and her husband came into town and practically bought nearly an entire house worth of furniture this morning. Must be them." As he spoke, John brought his tea to his lips and took a deep gulp from it, setting the glass down with a clunk. Dean looked between his parents for a moment, but they didn't ask him anything else - still talking to one another in speculation about their new neighbors.

When dinner was done and everyone was washed up, Sam and Adam crawled into Dean's bed with a storybook that Sam had filched from school. Much to Dean's protest about book-reading being for sissies, Adam was still too young to go to bed without rightfully demanding a story beforehand.

The next morning, Castiel was at the bus stop whenever Dean and Sam got there. Sam elbowed Dean in the side as harshly as a 10 year old can, turning to his brother with wide eyes. "Is this the boy you were talking about yesterday? The one who stares?" Sam asked in a stage whisper. Dean shoved Sam's shoulder, glancing up at Castiel and then glaring down at his little brother.

"Shut up, Sammy!" He hissed. His gaze shot up to Castiel to see the other boy hiding a smile. Sam looked sheepish, and apologized softly to Castiel.

"Its okay, I don't mind. My name is Castiel." Castiel said to Sam. Sam grinned brightly, thumbing the straps of his backpack.

"My name's Sam. I'm ten!" Sam said, his chest puffing out proudly. Castiel nodded sagely, adjusting his satchel that was slung over his shoulder.

"That's a very important age." Castiel agreed. Sam opened his mouth to say something else, but it came out as a noise of dismay upon seeing the bus for Dean and Castiel approaching. Dean ruffled his little brother's mop of a head, waved him goodbye, and boarded the bus with Castiel.

Castiel sat down first, and Dean took the space beside him. He opened his mouth, about to apologize honestly on Sam's behalf, but Castiel interrupted him.

"It doesn't bother me," Castiel started slowly, looking away from the window to stare at Dean. "What you think." He elaborated. Dean, mortified, said nothing.

The day passed slowly, only a few things keeping Dean from hating the daily routine of school. His Science class was wasted staring at the back of Lisa Braden's head and wondering if her hair was as soft as it looked. Gym class was spent ignoring Raphael's attempts to throw basketballs at the heads of freshmen, lunch break in the weight room to work out until he could barely move, and then blankly stare his way through his last three periods.

Dean's arms felt like noodles by the time he got on the bus after school, so absorbed into his thoughts that he'd temporarily forgotten about Castiel - until now.

"So..." Dean began, slipping into the seat with Castiel. "You sitting in my seat... is this going to be a permanent thing?" He asked -half joking. It didn't bother him THAT much, but it was enough that he couldn't NOT say anything. Castiel seemed startled, and snapped his head from staring out the window to look at Dean.

"My apologies... I was not aware." He confessed softly, gripping his satchel to his stomach. "Would you like me to move?"

"What?" Dean blurted, completely not expecting Castiel to offer Dean's seat back. "Uh no. you can keep it. its fine..." He muttered, voice trailing off as he went to stare out the opposite window across the bus. The bus pulled out of the school parking lot and onto the pothole-ridden main road. Dean glanced back over to Castiel and instantly looked away when he realized that the other boy was staring at him.

Dean waited a few seconds, and looked over at Castiel again, but the older boy had resumed gazing out the window. A little unnerved, Dean shifted further down in his seat and resolved to look in the opposite direction of Castiel for the rest of the ride.

The bus dropped them off at the front of the long dirt road that stretched out to both Dean and Castiel's house. Dean took refuge on a patch of grass just beside the road, sitting down and watching for Sam's bus. Castiel seemed to hesitate for a moment, but sat down beside Dean after a moment.

Dean looked up and over at Castiel, unable to think of anything to say other than an unintelligible, "Uhm..."

Castiel trained his squinted eyes on the road, slim fingers clasped together in his lap. "Hunters should stay in pairs." He said lowly, watching for Sam's bus with scrutiny.

"Uhh?" Dean grunted in confusion, twisting his head to stare at the other boy.

"Waiting alone for your brother isn't safe. A rougarou or shapeshifter could kill you and people would be none-the-wiser as to what happened." Castiel muttered, staring down at the dirt road and examining a cluster of pebbles. He reached forward to pick up a pebble, rolling it around in his fingers. Dean tried not to scratch his head in confusion.

"A what-awhat? Shapeshifter?"

Castiel looked up, seemingly pleased at Dean's response. He moved the pebble between his thumb and forefinger, flicking it like a marble and watching it fly into the road.

"Rougarou. They're monsters that were once human, with the face of a beast. They feed on flesh." As he spoke, Castiel seemed to get excited about the subject, expression brightening just the slightest bit. "And shapeshifters are beings without a face of their own, so they kill their victims and steal their lives."

Dean stared for a long time, turning Castiel's words over and over in his head and trying to process them. Castiel shifted uncomfortably under the younger boy's gaze, but then Dean spoke up.

"So... what kills them?"

This seemed to spur Castiel onto a tangent, and suddenly Dean's head was being filled with story upon story of how to kill the beings Castiel had mentioned. It left the boy's mind reeling and he had to hold up a hand to stop Castiel mid-sentence.

"How do you know all this stuff?" He breathed out, feeling exhausted with the sheer amount of information he was processing. Castiel straightened his back a little, shoulders stiff.

"Knowledge is best obtained through experience, and through the knowledge of others." He responded dutifully.

Dean stared, and Castiel started to fidget again.

"I read a lot of books." The older boy amended, and Dean released a long and understanding 'ohhhhhh', as Sam's school bus came down the road. Dean stood up, acting on instinct and reaching a hand out to help Castiel to his feet. The older boy took his hand dutifully, holding back a smile.

"Thank you, Dean." He said. Dean shrugged off Castiel's words and waited eagerly for Sam to get off the bus. His little brother came bounding down the steps, a smile on his face. Instantly, Dean was gesturing to Castiel.

"Cas told me about these things called shapeshifters. Cas, tell Sam what you told me." Dean grinned, actually excited that he had something worth sharing with his little brother. Castiel seemed unsure, at first, but he caved in at Dean's eager face and began to talk.

It was three in the morning when Sam's terrified scream woke up everyone in the house. Adam was instantly bawling and Sam streaked across the house and into Dean's room, all snot and tears and blathering on about shapeshifters in his room. Dean had a good thirty seconds to try and calm Sam down before John and Mary burst into Dean's room and Sam was pulled into his mother's embrace.

"D-dean told me about sh-shape shifters a-and how they kill people and then pretend to be them and hide their bodies a-and I had a bad dream!" Sam finally blurted, burying his head into Mary's shoulder. John looked livid, turning his gaze to land on his oldest son. Dean scrambled off of his bed, trying to protest and explain what was going on, but he was drowned out by Sam's sobbing and Adam's cries echoing from the next room over. John pointed a menacing finger at Dean.

"We're going to have a talk in the morning." He growled, stomping out of the room to calm Adam down. Mary sushed and cooed Sam down from his tearful state, scowling at Dean but saying nothing. She walked out of the room after a moment and shut Dean's door behind herself. Dean sat on his bed, trying to process what had just happened and eventually settling back into a fitful sleep.

John woke Dean up three hours later and dragged him outside to clean up car parts that littered the barn area. "If you're going to fill Sammy's head with nightmares, you'd better be ready to pay the consequences of waking everyone up." John had said, pointing to the pieces of engine littering the dew-covered grass.

When it was time to leave for the bus, Dean's hands and arms were covered in grease and he didn't have enough time to wash off before taking Sam with him to the bus stop.

Castiel was standing at the edge of the road, staring down the empty asphalt, as if willing the bus to appear. His demeanor instantly changed the second Dean and Sam came walking up, sharing a nod with Dean and smiling at Sam.

Sam, however, slid behind Dean and kept his eyes trained on the ground. This caused Castiel to slowly tilt his head to the side in confusion and Dean shoved Sam out from behind him.

"He had a nightmare about shapeshifters last night." Dean explained, ignoring Sam's look of betrayl that was shot his way. Castiel's eyes went wide and then his look transformed into an expression of seriousness.

"I'm sorry, Samuel. I didn't mean to frighten you." He stepped closer, crouching down to Sam's height and leveling the ten year old with a sincere look. "You don't have to worry about any shapeshifters around here, however. Dean and I have already checked the area and it is free of anything evil. You're safe." As Castiel spoke, he shot Dean a look that warned the boy from saying otherwise. Sam looked over at Dean expectantly while Castiel stood back up. Dean shifted uncomfortably and then nodded.

"Its true. The whole place is all clear, buddy." Dean said. Sam's distressed face became a look of relief. Dean and Castiel's bus drew up and Dean ruffled Sam's hair before boarding. They sat down and Dean instantly started rooting through his backpack.

"I wrote down what you said about shapeshifters." He said to Castiel. Castiel looked surprised, but pleased, and urged Dean to continue. Dean pulled out his homework assignment, flipping it over to show Castiel the barely ledgible scrawl that went into light detail about rougarou and shapeshifters. Castiel took the paper gingerly and skimmed the words.

"Very good, but a true hunter always records his notes in a journal so that other hunters after him can use it. We'll have to get you a journal." He said. Dean sheepishly took the paper back and stuffed it into his bag.

"Well, I'm not really a hunter so I guess it doesn't matter."

Castiel shook his head. "Hunters are not always born. Its never too late to become one, you just need to learn. Hunters come from a variety of backgrounds, but they all want the same thing; to protect the weak from evil. You'll be a great hunter one day, Dean."

Dean didn't say a word, leaning back in his seat and staring down at his backpack. Castiel took his silence in stride, instead using it as time to go into more detail about famous hunters. (Dean doubted DaVinci really hunted werewolves in his free time, though.)

Dean spent most of his classes in a stupor, doing the work and going through the motions like he did every day. His mind, however, was stuck on Castiel's voice talking about anything and everything pertaining to the supernatural. The kid was like a hurricane that blew in from who knows where, throwing Dean's mind into chaos with things that he'd never thought about before.

During lunch, Dean slipped away to the weight room - waving to the coach - and spent his time lifting as much weight as he dared. He was tired of being weak, and if the slowly developing muscles on his arm were anything to go by, he wouldn't be weak for very much longer.

When the final bell rang and Dean clambered on the bus, he caught sight of Castiel in his customary seat. This time, however, Dean was more excited than disgruntled to see the dark haired boy occupying that window seat. He slid in next to Castiel with a smile and a cheerful '_Hey Cas!_' that seemed to startle the older boy.

"... Cas?" Castiel inquired, brows furrowing in thought. Dean tilted his head to the side and shrugged.

"Castiel's too long, I thought Cas was more fitting." He confessed. Castiel seemed to take this in stride, squinting out the window and then looked back at Dean.

"I like it." He confirmed after a moment. Dean's face split into a grin and he held a fist out. Castiel's gaze slowly fell to Dean's hand and Dean moved the fist up and down a little.

"Brofist, man... you know.. knuckle-bump?" Dean wouldn't say it out loud, but he'd always wanted a friend that he could bump knuckles with like all the guys on television seemed to do. Castiel held up his own fist slowly, looking at it and then Dean's before slowly bringing his fist forward and pressing his knuckles against Dean's. He did it with such precision - like some sort of bomb could be detonated if their knuckles were to hit at the wrong angle - that Dean burst out laughing.

This startled Castiel into jerking his hand away and Dean shook his head. "No, man, its okay. You did it right. Sort of. Just don't be so stiff about it." He chuckled. Castiel pursed his lips and looked down at his fist, fingers uncurling slowly.

When they got off the bus, Cas stayed with Dean to wait for Sammy's bus to show up. As soon as the younger Winchester's feet his the gravel road, he was running over to the older boys with a grin.

"Does Cas have anymore stories today?" He asked - somewhat breathlessly. Dean scowled, holding a hand up and pointing an accusational finger at his little brother.

"The last time Cas told you a story, you went crying to mom and dad 'cause it gave you a nightmare!" He barked. Sam shook his head earnestly, wide brown eyes staring at his older brother imploringly.

"I swear I won't get scared this time!" He pleaded. Dean looked to Castiel and Cas seemed to think for a moment before speaking.

"Have you heard of a lucky rabbit's foot?" Castiel asked Sam. The ten year old scoffed.

"Yeah, duh. Who hasn't?"

Cas shook his head. "But have you heard of the one that was so lucky, it stole everyone's good fortune to stay that way?" He continued. Sam, wide-eyed, shook his head. Castiel turned to head down the dirt path towards their homes.

"Okay, I'll tell you about it, but make sure you listen carefully about how to destroy it. If you were to ever find this rabbit's foot and lose it, you would lose all your good luck as well." While Castiel spoke, Sam and Dean followed the older boy like lost puppies.

The days passed slowly, each one with a new story from Castiel - who seemed to be stuffed to the brim with nothing but information on anything and everything. It was a week before their routine abruptly changed, thanks to one school bully by the name of Raphael.

Dean had been in the weight room whenever Raphael burst in and sneered at the Winchester boy. "What are you doing?" Raphael barked, voice authoritative - for a fifteen year old. Dean slowly set down the curling weights he'd been holding and stared up at Raphael.

"I'm lifting weights, what's it look like?" Dean snapped back. Raphael pushed Dean to the side, taking the curling weights and moving to put them back. Dean made a grab for them and Raphael jerked his hand out of reach.

"Keep your filthy hands off of my things, scum." Raphael growled lowly, staring Dean down like he was the lowest life form on Earth. Dean growled, anger building up inside of him. Just because Raphael was the son of a preacher and had come from some hoity toity private school, didn't make him any better than anyone else.

"Don't be a dick, Raphael!" He yelled, shoving the older boy back. Raphael dropped the weights to the ground, his fist swinging before they'd even made a clatter. Dean registered blinding pain in his mouth and cheek. He stumbled back into the weight bench, roaring out in anger and lunging forward to let his fist fly.

Raphael ducked, leg kicking out and hitting Dean in the side of the knee. The Winchester fell to the ground with a cry, unable to stop Raphael from punching him in the face again. His eye started to swell shut immediately, but Dean didn't let it stop him from trying to hit Raphael again. A hand grabbed his wrist and twisted. Dean yelped, trying to move with the twist and wincing when it did nothing to stop the pain that reverberated down his hand and up his arm.

"S-stop it! That hurts!" Dean cried, instantly feeling shame well up in his gut. Raphael released him, foot flying out and kicking Dean in the stomach. Dean fell to the ground with a groan and Raphael stood over him with a leer.

"Heathen scum should learn their place." He spat, toeing his way past Dean and leaving the room abruptly. Dean sat on the floor of the weight room, clutching his wrist to his stomach and biting down on his split lip to keep from bursting into tears at the pain all over his body.

When his English teacher sent him to the nurse's office after lunch, Dean told her he'd fallen in the weight room and hit his head on a stack of weights. She didn't seem to believe him - a fist shaped bruise on his chin and eye being all but obvious - but didn't pry any further than telling Dean to be more careful with himself. He left the nurse's office with an ice pack in one hand and a wrap around his left wrist.

Dean was quiet when he clambered onto the bus after school. Castiel stared him down with a look of concern, but Dean ignored it. He sat down beside the older boy with a huff, forehead pressing into the back of the seat before him. Nothing was said between the two for the entirety of the bus ride, but Dean felt Castiel's gaze burning into the back of his head like a small fire.

Waiting for Sam's bus was done in silence, Dean refusing to answer any of Castiel's quiet inquiries. Before both Winchester boys left for home, however, Castiel grabbed Dean gently by the elbow and held him back.

"Its obvious that you were attacked by some sort of monster..." He started. Dean opened his mouth to protest that it was Raphael, not some stupid monster, but Castiel shook his head. "I don't need to know what kind of monster it is, I just would like to ask if you would want to learn how to defend yourself from another attack. The best kind of hunter is one that can fight."

Sam stood a little further down the road, watching the exchange. Dean shifted, tugging his elbow out of Castiel's grasp and looking at the ground to think over Cas's words. He glanced up again, giving Castiel a weak smile.

"Uh... sure, I guess. Are you gonna teach me to fight?"

Dean's answer was a small grin.

* * *

><p>Remember that job I said I got? I was fired twenty minutes after posting that chapter of 3 Kids and a Shitty Dad. lolololololol<p>

okay so I wrote half of this chapter in an hour, don't judge me. I need to learn to pace myself, man.


	2. The Garden

The Crossroads

**Chapter 2**: The Garden

"The White Lady is a ghost of a woman who's been through trauma before her death, or died with a feeling of extreme terror. Some people say she's a harbinger of death, though sometimes those that see her live to tell. They're similar to banshees, but without the screaming." Castiel said, handing over a piece of sketch paper to Dean. The bus rattled and shook as Dean took the paper, staring at a surprisingly beautiful drawing of a bloody woman in a white dress with wild hair and white eyes. Dean looked up at Castiel, prepared to ask if the other boy had drawn it, but Castiel cut him off.

"My father drew it. He said I could give it to you - for your journal." Castiel said softly. Dean's journal so far consisted of margin notes and scrap-paper scribbles about the things Castiel had told him. Dean grinned brightly, slipping the sketch paper behind his homework.

"Women in white are difficult for hunters, because their remains are usually hidden somewhere by the murderer. On the off chance that you can find her corpse, it's customary to salt the body and then burn the remains like any other ghost. My mother says that they don't exist, but my father has seen one before when he was young. That was before he met my mother, so she never saw the woman in white."

Dean continued taking notes underneath of his homework, intending on tearing the page out after it was graded and returned to him. He paused at the end of Castiel's sentence, realizing he knew next to nothing about his friend. Dean looked up, glancing over at Castiel as the boy rambled about his mother.

"My mother is a skeptic with ghosts, but that's because she's a pagan goddess, and ghosts are afraid of her very presence. They never come around when my mother is near." Castiel continued, glancing over at Dean with a look of utmost seriousness. Dean set his pencil down to listen. Castiel took this as initiative and elaborated further.

"My mother, the goddess Kali, fell in love with my father, Loki the Trickster. Of course, to keep his identity safe, my father goes by the name of Gabriel now." Dean pursed his lips and cracked a smile.

"So, does that make you a God?" He joked. Castiel's brows furrowed and he shook his head slowly.

"They're not my real mother and father. My birth father didn't want children, but it is against their religious beliefs to abort a fetus. My mother carried me to term and I was given to my father's youngest brother." Castiel stopped after a moment, thinking deeply. "I think I liked the other version of the story better." He said, an odd look crossing his face.

Dean shrugged, nudging Castiel with his elbow. "I still like you, no matter who your mom and dad are, Cas." As he spoke, Castiel looked at him with an unreadable expression that soon turned into a small glimmer of delight.

"Thank you, Dean."

When they got to school, Castiel and Dean parted ways. Empowered by Castiel's quick lesson on fighting from the night before, he tried flirting with Lisa Braeden after science class. She took to it, all giggles and smiles and throwing back a few teasing comments of her own while he walked her to the lunch room. Raphael blew past Dean when the Winchester boy was heading for the weight room, sneering at the wrap on Dean's wrist and shoving him against the lockers.

Dean spent his lunch hour doing leg-related exercises (lifting anything with his sore wrist was out of the question) and when the bus rolled up after school, he climbed on with excitement at a new story from Castiel.

Instead of a story, however, Castiel grinned and asked Dean one question.

"Would you like to see our training ground?"

Dean nodded eagerly, mind already coming up with different images of gyms and padded rooms that were built for sparring and training. They waited for Sam's bus, but instead of letting Dean walk home with his little brother, Castiel looked to Sam with a stoic expression.

"Samuel. I need you to go home alone today. Your brother and I are going to hunt a Wendigo that could be wandering the woods. They only come out after four, so you'll be safe on the way home, but we must prepare before the Wendigo comes out so we can take it by surprise." Sam took all of this in with wide eyes, nodding furiously. At first, he seemed ready to protest that he wanted to help, but thought better of it. Sam gave Dean a hug and waved Castiel goodbye before starting his trek down the dirt path alone.

Dean turned to look at his friend and Castiel stared off at Sam's retreating figure.

"Wendigo are monsters from the Native American culture. They are the result of Natives going rogue and feeding on the flesh of another man. They are ravenous, bloodthirsty creatures that will harvest human bodies for long periods of time." Castiel began walking in the same direction Sam had gone, but instead of taking the right turn to Dean's house, they continued down until there was a fork in the road. To the right was more dirt road that led to the tiny outline of a large house.

The left boasted a small cliff-like walkway on the edge of a river that ran under the bridge they stood on. In between the two roads was an old, tattered scarecrow that looked like it had seen better days.

"The demon, Crowley, guards this crossroads. He's the greatest crossroads demon of all, but if you choose wrong, you would befall the wrath of this demon and forever be in his debt." Castiel veered left, leading Dean towards the small patch of dirt that teetered on the edge of a drop into the river. The further they went down the path, the smaller it became. The hill on the other side dipped down into a ditch-like valley on the other side, making Dean nervous about falling on either side of the road.

Dean's excitement about the training ground became replaced with curiosity as to what was at the end of the path. The ditch on the right side became even with the walkway, and both lead into a deep forest. Castiel used his hands to push branches aside, leading Dean deeper into the woods until they reached a clearing where a large tree had fallen and cleared out the surrounding foliage.

"This is our training ground. The Garden of Eden...It used to belong to a great hunter named Rufus, once, but since then has grown over. We need to clean it out again before we can begin training." Castiel explained. Dean felt a minute bubble of frustration grow in his chest, but started pulling weeds and small plants up out of the ground and tossing them to the side while Castiel did the same.

"I talked to Lisa Braeden today." Dean blurted out. Castiel hummed to let the younger boy know he was listening. Dean grinned, excited to tell someone about it.

"She was awesome. She's funny and cute and I think I really like her. I kinda wanna tell my mom, but she's always taking care of my little brother, Adam. I don't wanna tell Adam 'cause he'll say something to Dad or Sam and they'll make fun of me. Adam's three. He's really loud. I like Sam better." Dean confessed, tossing a handful of weeds to the edge of the clearing. Castiel smiled a little at this, using his foot to break a small sapling and then tear it out of the ground.

"So what's your house like, Cas? Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

Castiel shook his head, using his feet to sweep dead leaves out of the way. "The goddess Kali and her most loyal follower, Loki, have only me..." He paused, thinking about his words and then laughing softly. "A fallen angel."

Dean made a weird face, but shrugged and continued tearing out more weeds and shrubs. When they'd made a decent-sized clearing, Castiel taught Dean how to stand in a fight, showing him the proper motions to block a hit and how to trick the opponent into letting their guard down. Night was starting to creep in when Castiel finally stopped and headed over to his satchel.

"I have something for you, Dean." Castiel said, pulling out a small brown leather journal. He unclasped it, showing Dean the first page.

_The Journal of Dean Winchester. _It read in Castiel's neat handwriting. Dean took it gingerly, flipping open to the first page and staring down at the crisp, empty lines that begged to be written on. Dean looked back up at Castiel with surprise and Cas grinned.

"It's yours, Dean."

Dean stared back down at the journal, a smile breaking onto his face. He shot his head back up, looking at Castiel imploringly.

"You have to draw in it, Cas." Dean blurted out. Castiel seemed taken aback and shook his head quickly.

"I lack the artistic talent that my father has." He said, grabbing his satchel and slinging it over his shoulder. Dean shoved the journal at Castiel.

"Yeah, but you're the only one who knows what these things look like, so you gotta draw them for me. It'll be our journal, not just mine." Said Dean. Castiel stared at the journal pressed against his sternum and sighed softly.

"I suppose I will. But write in it first. I will only draw what is necessary for readers to understand what they are looking for." He replied. Dean's grin widened and he took the journal back, staring at the empty pages with excitement before grabbing his backpack. The sun was getting ready to set, so both boys started their trek back home.

"So what's your family like?" Dean asked as they left the clearing. Castiel batted a tree branch out of the way and thought over his words for a moment.

"My father, mother, and I moved here after mother set out last house on fire. She didn't like it much. Father decided it was time for a 'change of scenery' and brought us here." Castiel began, ducking under another branch. Dean stepped over a bush and scowled.

"Your dad didn't get mad at your mom? If my mom did that, my dad would go crazy mad."

Castiel shook his head. "My father adores my mother... more than the sun and the moon could compare." His words were spoken with such sincerity that Dean felt a coil of jealousy run through him at the thought of his friend's perfect family.

"My father has requested on many occasions that you come to dinner. I would like to extend this invitation to you for tomorrow night." Castiel said, suddenly looking almost nervous. They moved to walk one behind the other as the pathway narrowed and Dean grinned behind Castiel's back.

"That'd be cool." He said. Castiel's shoulders dropped the slightest bit in what could have been relief.

"Is okay for you to come home with me after school tomorrow? We could work on your journal before dinner..." Cas asked. Dean nodded, but then realized Castiel couldn't see it.

"Yeah, that's good. I'll tell my mom and dad when I get home tonight."

"Excellent."

The next day couldn't have gone fast enough, as far as Dean was concerned. He walked Lisa to lunch, avoided Raphael, and ran on the treadmill in the weight room before breezing through the last few hours on a high of anticipation.

Dean and Castiel walked Sam home before making their way back to the main road and heading towards the crossroads. Castiel stopped before the scarecrow.

"Crowley has been employed by my mother to protect our home from evils. She has taken some of his blood so that he is bound to her forever. This is a very risky deal, but it ensures the safety of my family from spirits." Castiel explained, leading Dean down the long and winding road and towards the large mansion of a house in the distance. The walk was spent talking about school assignments and Castiel explaining the Korean War in greater detail than Dean's history teacher.

When they walked in the front door, Dean was hit with the scent of a bakery. Castiel toed off his shoes on the floor mat and pushed them to the side. Dean did the same, and followed Castiel deeper into the large house.

Castiel's father was in the kitchen, peering into something in the oven. Hearing footsteps, the man stood up straight and grinned brightly at the two boys.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" The man crowed, crooking a finger at Dean. "Is this the famous hunter, Dean Winchester, that I've been hearing about?"

Dean pointed to himself with a confused look and Castiel nudged him with an elbow. He walked forward towards Castiel's dad and the man circled him.

"Hmm. yes. Definitely a hunter. Good name, too." He said. Dean's chest puffed up a little at the compliment, and Castiel's dad reached out to ruffle Dean's hair.

"You boys go do your homework or whatever. Dinner will be ready around seven. I'm making cookies right now, so come down in a bit to get some before dinner. Just don't tell your mom." Gabriel winked at his son and the two shared an almost-mischievous grin.

Dean and Castiel went upstairs to Cas's room and Dean was amazed at the expansive bedroom littered in trinkets of every shape and sort. They set about working on the journal, Castiel doodling small diagrams and examples for Dean to tape in the journal next to each entry he made. At one point, Castiel ventured downstairs and returned balancing a plate of six cookies and two small glasses of milk. They nibbled and talked, Dean taking notes every now and then about some of the magical items in Castiel's room.

A little after seven, Gabriel knocked on the door and poked his head into Castiel's room to tell the boys that, "Dinner, my dears, is served."

It was at the dinner table that Dean saw Castiel's mother for the first time, a dark-skinned beautiful woman with a penetrating stare. It wasn't hard to guess which of the two Castiel had gotten his stoicism from. She kept her eyes trained on Dean for a very long time, twisting her wine glass back and forth between her thumb and forefinger.

Castiel's father didn't take to the silence very well, and started dinner off with a quick magic trick by pulling a napkin for Dean out from one of his shirt sleeves. (after, of course, showing Dean that nothing was there.)

They ate in relative silence, until Gabriel started in on a story about how he'd run into a Djinn and had nearly succumbed to the creature's fantasy.

"I knew it wasn't real, after a while. Nobody could fake my wife's beauty. I knew in an instant that I'd been put into a dream world. Kali here was far too nice - not fun, I tell you. I like my darling just how she is." Gabriel rambled, stuffing a forkful of green beans into his mouth and chewing.

"You're going to fill that boy's head with more nonsense than your own son." Kali said, finally. It was the first thing that Dean had heard come from her, and he would have been put off if it weren't for the tiny smile peeking at the corner of her mouth. "But... flattery will get you everywhere." She amended. Gabriel grinned and leaned to the side to kiss his wife on the cheek.

The rest of dinner was spent listening to Gabriel talk about his battle with the Djinn and how he'd had to resort to out-magicking it with a few tricks of his own. When they cleared the table, Gabriel turned to look at Dean.

"It's late, kid. You wanna call your parents and ask to stay the night? Tomorrow is Saturday so I'm sure you'd end up coming over here anyway." As he spoke, Gabriel held out their house phone to Dean. Surprised, Dean took it.

"Is... that okay? Are you sure?" He asked quietly. It had been a long time since Dean had been invited to dinner, let alone a sleepover at someone's house. Gabriel scoffed, laughing.

"Of course it is, kiddo. You're Cas's best friend, and best friends are always allowed to spend the night here."

Dean's face split into a grin and he looked over at Castiel, receiving a nod in return. Dean dialed his house number, hearing his mother's voice on the other line after the second ring. Adam was laughing loudly in the background.

"Hey mom, is it okay if I spend the night? I promise I'll be back in time to do chores tomorrow." Dean asked. His mother sounded surprised at the request.

"Of course, sweetheart. I'm sure Sammy can do a few of your chores in the morning. You just have fun, okay?" After she'd spoken, Dean could hear her exchanging words with his dad. John sounded a little angry, and Dean felt nervousness in his gut that his father wouldn't allow him to stay. Instead of retracting her statement, however, Dean's mother returned to the phone.

"Have a good night, Dean. We'll see you tomorrow." She said, hanging up the phone abruptly. Dean pursed his lips, but turned the phone off and handed it back to Castiel's dad.

"I can stay the night. Thank you, sir." He turned to look at Castiel, giving his friend a thumbs-up. Gabriel reached out and ruffled Dean's hair.

"Don't call me sir, just Gabriel will do. You boys go on upstairs and have fun. Just don't be too loud, alrighty?"

"Yessir. er... Gabriel. Sorry." Dean laughed at himself awkwardly, following Castiel back upstairs.

"I don't have anywhere else for you to sleep, so we have to share the bed, if that's okay with you." Castiel said, leading Dean up the stairs. Dean didn't have a problem with the idea. He'd had to share a bed with Sammy for a long time until they could afford another bed.

"That's okay."

Castiel opened the door to his room and in an instant, they were back to filling up the journal with all kinds of lore and enough of Castiel's drawings that the older boy's hand started to cramp up. It was nearly midnight when Castiel clambered up into his bed and Dean followed suit.

Dean was pretty sure he fell asleep first, exhaustion from the day finally pulling him into a deep slumber filled with fantastical dreams. At one point, he jolted awake from a dream in which he'd fallen out of his chair in class to stare around the darkness of Castiel's room. Half-awake, Dean felt Castiel's fingers loosely curled around his thumb, index, and middle finger. Too tired to pull it away, Dean fell back asleep.

The next morning was greeted with the scent of pancakes wafting through the vents. Dean sat up as soon as his mind registered it, jarring Castiel into a groggy state of wakefulness.

They ate Gabriel's chocolate-chip pancakes with earnest and Castiel dragged Dean back out to the training ground. This time, however, they pulled a wagon full of wood, paint, and other materials.

The first thing Castiel did was hammer a plank of wood to the first tree that lead into the clearing. He dug out a can of red spray-paint and started spraying some sort of intricate symbol onto it.

"We're going to ward the Garden from evil. I drew some symbols in the journal, if you'd like to paint them onto the other trees." Castiel said, gesturing to the wagon. Dean opened the journal to where Castiel had used a sticky note to mark their progress. It was filled with different warding symbols, as well as a list of ingredients for hex bags.

"Why don't we have hex bags?" Dean asked, skimming over the list but not really reading it. Castiel stopped in the middle of spraying a devil's trap onto the fallen tree. He didn't turn, but was quiet for a moment.

"I'm afraid I do not have the stomach to do the things required for making a proper one." He said softly, resuming his current task.

"Why's that?" Dean flipped back to the list of symbols, grabbing a can of orange spray paint and shaking it. He walked over to the nearest tree and pulled the cap off.

"Hex bags, albeit useful for almost anything, are also witchcraft. Therefore, they require the bones of certain small animals." Castiel muttered, setting down his can of spray paint and grabbing some wood from the bottom of the wagon, as well as a large knife. "I would never harm another being. I believe everything deserves a chance at life, if it can be helped." As he spoke, Castiel began carving one end of the wood plank into what looked like a dull tip.

Dean dwelled on Castiel's words. It was a vastly different point of view than that of his father, who shot at raccoons any time they tried getting into the trash bins outside the house. He could recall the exact conversation between his parents, mom telling dad that it wasn't necessary to kill the raccoons and John responding that they'd just keep coming back and making a mess if they weren't killed early on.

By the time all the wards had been put up and Castiel had finished carving two makeshift swords, noon had rolled in. Castiel pulled out the small basket from the wagon and extracted two sandwiches and two apples, as well as water bottles.

"The best diet is to eat a little bit all day. It keeps your body working all the time to keep you running." Castiel said, handing a sandwich over to Dean.

Dean opened the sandwich bag, pulling it out and peering at the ham and cheese nestled between two slices of wheat bread. He glanced up at Castiel, taking the offered water bottle. "How do you know so much?" He asked.

Castiel bit into his own apple, munching slowly and staring at the scenery. "I read a lot." He murmured, taking another bite. Dean waited for him to continue.

"I'm alone enough that I can read more than most children my age. It... distracts me." Castiel ended, opening his water bottle and drinking lightly from it. Dean nibbled on his sandwich, rolling his green apple around the palm of his hand.

"Do you read when you're not with me?"

"All the time." Castiel answered softly.

They finished their food in silence, and Castiel packed their trash back into the basket before showing Dean the swords he'd made. He taught Dean lunges and defensive stances with the swords before the position of the sun caught up with Dean.

"Oh crap." The younger boy cursed, dropping his sword in shock. "I should have been home by now." Suddenly frightened at what would happen when he came home so late, Dean stepped back, grabbing the journal and heading out of The Garden.

"I'm sorry, Cas. My dad's gonna be so pissed off. I'll call you, okay?" He called over his shoulder. Castiel brought up a hand to wave, but Dean didn't see it because he was already running off.

The instant Dean walked in the front door - sweaty and out of breath - John was yelling at him. Still in his mechanic's uniform, John's face was the epitome of furious.

"You left your mother here alone with Adam and Sam, the house is a mess and you were out playing with your boyfriend all day!" John snapped, pointing a finger in Dean's face. "You'd better get your head on straight, son. You've got two brothers to take care of and your mom can't do all the work."

Sam, who was sitting in the living room and watching television, stood up.

"I'm not a baby, daddy!" He cried. John whirled on him and pointed up stairs.

"You aren't a part of this, Sam! Go to your room!"

Dean didn't give his father a chance to continue yelling, instantly defending himself with a sudden burst of rage. "Why can't I have a life too? Why is it always about everyone else!"

John seemed startled at Dean's outburst, and it empowered the young Winchester.

"I could be dead and you'd care more about your stupid shop than if I was okay!" Dean cried. John's face contorted into a look of rage and his hand was flying out at Dean's face in an instant. Dean ducked, reflexes learned from all the training he'd done with Castiel earlier. A gasp tore from his mother, who'd been hovering nearby, and Dean was so shocked that he bolted upstairs before his dad could take another swing.

Dean burst into his room, fear turning to anger at seeing Sam curled up on his bed and hugging a pillow. He couldn't even have a moment alone!

"Get out of my room, Sammy!" Dean yelled, pointing to the door. Sam, surprised, sat up with protest.

"But Dea-"

"I thought you were all grown up?" Dean jeered, mocking Sam's earlier words. Sam's eyes welled with tears and he jumped up, shoving at Dean and running out of the room. Dean heard the sound of Sam and Adam's door slamming, and Adam's crying being shushed.

Dean threw his notebook onto his bed, rushing around the room and grabbing clothes and pencils and paper and stuffing them into his backpack with the journal. By the time he'd packed up - prepared to run away - his rage and fear had tapered off into fatigue. Dean flopped down on his bed, rethinking his plan of escape and realizing that if he did run away, he would miss Sam and Adam and his mom, as well as Castiel.

Dean stared up at his ceiling, listening to the sounds of the television on downstairs. Maybe if he did all of his chores tomorrow, dad wouldn't be so mad.

The next morning, Dean did exactly that. His entire day was spent on cleaning the house and the barn and all the car parts that were littered around his dad's 'project cars' that the man usually worked on in his free time.

With prompting from his mother, Dean apologized to Sam for yelling at him. It was mid-afternoon when a knock came from the front door and Dean went to answer it. He was surprised to see Castiel standing there, holding a small ream of papers in hand.

"I came to return some drawings and notes that you left at my house." Castiel said, eyes focused on his best friend. Dean didn't have time to respond before Adam's scream of 'DADDDYYYYYY' came from across the house and the toddler was running for the front door. Dean had a split second to whirl around and catch his little brother before the kid went barreling into Castiel's shins. Adam froze in Dean's arms, staring at Castiel with wide and curious eyes.

"Dean, who is it?" His mother asked, walking up and stopping at the sight of Castiel. "Oh, hello! You must be Castiel!" She held a hand out, taking Adam from Dean and gesturing for Castiel to come inside.

"Yes ma'am. I was just returning a few papers that Dean left at my house. I don't want to intrude." His voice was soft - shy. Mary laughed softly and shook her head, rubbing Adam's head fondly.

"Nonsense. You're welcome here. I just made lunch, would you like some?" Mary offered. Castiel stood there awkwardly before Dean rolled his eyes and stepped to the side to let his friend in.

"It's my mom, Cas. She won't bite." He joked. Castiel took this as an invitation and stepped inside.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Winchester." Castiel said. Mary was instantly taken with the boy, grinning and gesturing to the couch.

"Any friend of Dean's is welcome here. Why don't you boys have a seat and I'll bring you some food."

Dean led Castiel to their small and cramped living room, sitting on the couch and turning on the radio. His mother liked cooking best when it was done to music.

"Sorry, my house isn't very big." Dean muttered, embarrassed. Castiel shook his head, grinning softly at Dean.

"My house is too big, I like yours better." He confessed. Dean brightened up instantly, returning the smile. Mary emerged from the kitchen with two plates that each had a peanut butter sandwich - crusts cut off. She handed them to the boys and clapped her hands together upon hearing the song that was playing on the radio.

"Adam! Come dance with mommy, sweetie!" She called. Instantly, Adam and Sam were both in the living room. Mary turned up the radio, grabbing hands with Adam and Sam and swinging them up and down.

"We all live in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine!" She sang with The Beatles. Adam jumped up and down to the song and Sam sang along with her. Castiel, finished with his sandwich, leaned close to Dean.

"What's the name of this band?" He asked softly. Dean dropped his half-eaten sandwich, staring at Castiel with shock.

"The Beatles? You've never heard of them?" Dean gaped. Castiel shook his head sheepishly.

"They sound familiar, but I don't think I've heard any of their music. I like this song, though." Castiel leaned back away from Dean, watching Mary and her two sons dance along to the music.

If Castiel didn't know the Beatles... then... "Do you know Led Zeppelin?" He asked in a stage whisper. Castiel glanced over and shook his head.

Dean vowed to change this as soon as possible.

Cas left a couple hours later, after Dean had filled his head with Beatles, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Foreigner, and anything and everything in between. Castiel had listened to every song all the way before making judgment, but the verdict was that Castiel had gone a very long time without knowing a lot of good music.

John came home not long after Castiel had departed. In his hand was a small toolbox. He handed it to Dean without a word - a silent apology. Dean was instantly filled with delight, opening it up and marveling over all the tools within. It came with a standard wrench set, as well as screwdrivers and a hammer and even a ratchet.

Closing the toolbox, Dean looked up at his dad's almost-sheepish face. "Its okay dad. Everyone gets mad, I was being stupid anyways."

John grunted, clearing his throat. "Yeah well. I think the Impala needs an oil change. I could use your help."

Dean took the invitation readily, following his father outside and immediately breaking in his new tool box. They were underneath the belly of the Impala when John spoke again.

"Your mom and brother tell me you've got a new friend. Good kid?" John rumbled, sliding the oil drum over as oil began pouring out from the car.

Dean nodded, unsure of what to say. "He's really smart. He knows everything, I think. But he doesn't know music very well."

John grunted in thought, but said nothing. They finished with the oil and John sent Dean inside to clean up.

By the time dinner had rolled around, everyone was sitting at the table and Mary was watching Dean quietly.

"You have a very nice friend, Dean. You should invite him over more." She said, taking a napkin and handing it to Adam when the toddler got mashed potatoes all over his mouth. Dean stared at his plate, kicking his legs under the table.

"I might. if I wanna..." He muttered, suddenly feeling shy. Mary grinned and resumed eating.

That night, Dean fell asleep amidst a pile of Castiel's drawings, his hand clutching to a pen and journal sitting on the pillow next to him.


	3. Grace

Raphael was a dick. Dean knew this without a doubt.

Confronting Dean in the weight room was one thing, but now he was extending his presence to Castiel as well. Dean had been in the middle of a conversation with Castiel on crocatta whenever the older boy walked up to them and sneered at Castiel before turning to look at Dean.

"For future reference, Dean. Homosexuality is a sin, and if you keep it up, God will smite you."

Castiel, being rather religious, took instantly to the topic. "What, Raphael, does friendship have to do with homosexuality?" He barked, anger evident in his face. Dean stared at him and Raphael opened his mouth to retort, but Castiel cut him off.

"While we're on the subject, where in the bible does it outright state such things? Nowhere? Then that means you shouldn't interpret God's word the way you want, because that, Raphael, is also a sin."

Castiel didn't get another word out before Raphael was shoving him back. Instead of retaliating, Castiel moved back with the shove, lessening the blow. Raphael growled low in his throat, taking a swing at Castiel's head. The attack was dodged with ease and Dean grinned.

"Hit him, Cas!" Dean cheered. Castiel ignored Dean's words, instead moving to avoid another blow from Raphael. A crowd of students started around the two, but Castiel refused to take a single swing.

That is, until someone shoved Dean into the fray and Raphael's fist socked him right in the side of the nose. Castiel was on Raphael in an instant, heel cracking against the boy's shin and then kneeing him in the gut when Raphael bent forward in pain.

Backing off as quickly as he'd jumped into the fight, Castiel helped Dean to his feet. They both stared at Raphael with wary eyes, waiting for the other boy to attack again. However, the fight was stopped the second a teacher came bustling through the crowd.

The woman took one look at Dean's bloody nose and Raphael's panting form before sending Raphael to the principal's office and Dean and Castiel to the nurse.

As they walked, Dean turned to look at Castiel. "Why didn't you show him his place? You could totally beat him in a fight!" He cried softly. Castiel shook his head, motioning for Dean to tilt his head back and pinch his nose.

"It isn't my right to teach another their place. That is only the right of God." Castiel responded gently. Dean made a face, but didn't argue the matter.

After the nurse had stopped Dean's bloody nose, they were sent to the principal's office. Both boys stood outside the door and Dean watched a man, who obviously wasn't Raphael's real father, reprimand the boy violently. Dean was at a loss for words, unable to do much more than watch this man shake and scream at Raphael for his behavior.

"Did you know that Raphael was adopted, Dean?" Castiel asked, his voice low. Dean shook his head and Castiel continued. "He lives in foster care with the priest's family. Raphael has been his entire life without a home to call his own." Castiel looked away from the scene to stare at Dean.

"Do you understand, now?"

Dean nodded mutely, and the principal beckoned them into the room while Raphael was dragged out by the priest.

The next day, Raphael brushed by Dean and Castiel without a single glance. His lip was swollen - the edge of it scabbed over. Castiel nudged Dean with his elbow, motioning to Raphael.

Dean shook his head furiously. "The guy's a dick! Why would you want to make him feel better?" He hissed. Castiel ignored Dean's words and followed Raphael.

"Jesus people..." Dean muttered under his breath, eyes rolling upward in exasperation. Castiel caught Raphael's arm outside the hallway, speaking to the other boy in a soft undertone. They exchanged words for a few moments and then both bowed their heads in prayer. Afterwards, Raphael grabbed Castiel's arm before the shorter boy could return to Dean's side. What he said, Dean couldn't catch, but Castiel nodded and they parted ways.

"What did you say to him?" Dean asked once Castiel was within talking distance. His response was nothing but a shake of the head.

The rest of the day passed like normal, as did the ride home. Dean and Castiel spent a few hours in The Garden, but Dean did nothing but talk about Lisa Braeden. After the third comment on the girl's personality and body, Castiel stopped mid-stance to drop his hands in exasperation.

"Dean, a hunter shouldn't focus on menial things like crushes. They are responsible for the lives of many, and cannot focus on someone who is unable to take care of themselves in a crisis." He said, voice low and serious. Dean grinned, shrugging his friend's words off like a fly.

"I wouldn't mind taking care of her, if you know what I mean." Dean said with a grin, wiggling his eyebrows. Castiel huffed out through his nose, mouth pursing into a scowl.

"Just... don't let her see The Garden, okay? This place should only be known by other hunters, to keep it safe from evil." Castiel had taken to constantly calling their training ground 'The Garden of Eden', or 'The Garden' for short. Dean didn't particularly care for all the religious references, but it made Castiel happy to have such a sanctuary that he could hold in high regards.

In fact, Dean didn't get a lot of the religious references that Castiel made, but over the past few weeks he'd taken to reading important passages out of the bible at Castiel's request. (Most of those passages were found in Revelations, where Dean learned about every sign of an oncoming apocalypse.) If anything, it helped Dean understand Castiel's thought process a little better; given that it was usually Castiel who had to explain the meaning of various verses.

Personally, Dean considered Angels and all that stuff a bunch of bull, but the stories about ghosts and demons and monsters were somewhat believable.

November was coming around the corner, and Dean knew for a fact that Castiel's 15th birthday was only a couple of days away. In that time, he'd spent hours searching for the perfect gift.

The day before Castiel's birthday, Dean begged his mother to take him into the city. He'd saved up all his money and had just enough to get Castiel something nice. Mary was all too happy to oblige, and he, Adam and Sam all piled into Mary's restored Volkswagen for a trip to the city. They went through store after store, until Dean caught sight of a sign in front of the local pet store.

An idea hit him, and Dean knew exactly what he was going to get Castiel.

The next day, Dean met Castiel at the bus stop with a wide grin.

"Happy birthday, Cas." He and Sam said in unison. Dean could barely contain his excitement for the end of the school day to come. Castiel tilted his head, mouth pulling into a tiny smile.

"Thank you, Dean." He responded, obviously expecting nothing more from his best friend.

"I got you a present!" Dean blurted out before he could stop himself.  
>Castiel quirked an eyebrow, gaze looking down at Dean's empty hands and then to his book bag.<p>

"I don't have it with me; it's too big to bring to school. I'm gonna give it to you after school. You can come over for a little bit, right?" Dean added, elbowing Sam when his younger brother started to giggle excitedly. Castiel seemed intrigued, but Dean kept his mouth shut.

They spent the bus ride to and from school talking about things to put in Dean's journal, and by the time they got off the bus, it took all of Dean's free will to stay put and wait for Sam.

"I must admit, I'm curious about this present you've gotten me, Dean." Castiel muttered, looking more and more impatient as they waited for Sam's bus. Yeah, he was excited, Dean could totally tell.

The second Sam stepped off the bus, all three boys were running to the Winchester house. (stopping every now and then to let Sam catch up when he lagged behind.) Dean burst through the front door first, running for the large object sitting on the living room table that was covered in a sheet. Castiel's eyes grew as wide as saucers the very second he heard chirping coming from the sheet, and Dean lifted it up to hand it to his friend.

Castiel looked at the object in his hands for a very long time, listening to it chirp and peep loudly before he slowly removed the sheet covering it.

"A finch?" Castiel asked softly, voice full of wonder.

"YEAH!" Sam cried, jumping up and down next to the bird cage that Castiel held in his hand. Dean rubbed the back of his head shyly, shrugging once.

"Well, I couldn't afford a really big bird... but you kinda remind me of a bird, you know?" He explained, waving a hand around to accentuate his point. Castiel looked up from the little hopping and fluttering ball of feathers and stared at Dean, brows furrowed.

Dean elaborated, "Well, you're always thinking about being somewhere else... and I bet if you had wings, you'd fly everywhere and see everything."

An expression crossed Castiel's face that Dean couldn't identify, something close to adoration. (Dean knew he'd love the gift.) Castiel ran his hand down the side of the small bird cage, looking back at the small creature with a gentle smile.

"I love it. Thank you, Dean."

Castiel ended up naming the bird Grace, arguing Dean's complaint of it being a girl's name (when the shop owner TOLD Dean it was a boy) by explaining that Grace is something inside of you, that it has no gender.

It wasn't long before Grace came with them to The Garden, sitting in his cage and chirping to the bird in the trees.

Over a week had passed since Grace had joined their ragtag group when Dean decided something.

"Hey Castiel... I was thinking about maybe... asking Lisa Braeden on a date."

Castiel's face contorted into displeased scowl, but it was gone just as quickly as it had come. "She doesn't seem your type." He muttered, ducking a swing from Dean and grabbing his hand to twist it behind his back. Dean yelped, and Castiel let him go. They faced off again and Dean put his arms down from the defensive pose he'd taken to grin lewdly.

"She does yoga man. How is that NOT my type?" He asked, his young teenage mind already turning the gears. Castiel rolled his eyes and took a mock-swing at Dean's face for the other boy to dodge, obviously telling him to drop the subject.

Dean asked Lisa out on a Thursday, and by the time he was on the bus, he was bursting with newfound excitement. He flopped into his seat beside Castiel, hands flailing. "Oh man, Cas. You should have seen her face when I asked her out. She was totally waiting for it."  
>Castiel gave Dean a weak smile, one that Dean shrugged off as Castiel being himself.<p>

He leaned back into his seat with a sated sigh. "I'm taking her to the movies tomorrow after school. I think we're gonna go into the city. Mom already said she'd give me money for the tickets, and extra to take her somewhere to eat. This is gonna be so awesome." Dean breathed out. Castiel said nothing for the longest time and Dean turned to face him.

"So.. what're you gonna do while I'm on my date?" He inquired. Castiel peered out the window, watching rain patter against it gently.

"Most likely I'll spend my day inside, reading a book. It's been raining too much lately to do anything else." Castiel responded dutifully. Dean quirked an eyebrow at his friend's behavior, but didn't press the matter.

It was too rainy to make their normal venture out to The Garden, so they parted ways after reaching the road to Dean and Sam's house.

Dean instantly told his mother about the date with Lisa the next day, and Mary took to it wonderfully, going so far as to help Dean lay out the entire date into a perfectly executable plan.

The next day, Castiel met Dean at the bus stop. He looked like he wanted to say something, but ended up letting Sam talk instead. The ten year old blathered on and on about having trouble writing in cursive like his teacher wanted, and how his regular handwriting was much better than his cursive. Dean watched Castiel, even after they got on the bus. He waited, but Castiel never got around to saying what was on his mind. Dean shrugged it off by the end of the bus ride to school, clambering off and jogging into the school with a cheerful wave goodbye to Castiel.

They wouldn't see each other on the bus after school, since Dean was going to go on the city bus with Lisa to make it to the matinee he'd picked out, but Dean knew that he'd be going over to Castiel's that night to tell him all about the date. The day took forever to pass, though he and Lisa passed notes back and forth during all of science class. When the final bell rang, Dean met Lisa outside the front steps. Castiel walked by, heading for the bus, and Dean waved eagerly at him. Castiel tilted his head in Dean's direction, wiggling his fingers in a small wave, and boarded the bus.

Dean turned to look at Lisa, excitement putting a wide grin on his face. "Ready?" He asked. Lisa smiled and nodded.

"I've never taken the city bus before." She confessed. Dean scoffed, waving a hand about flippantly.

"It's like the school bus, only quieter and more old people." He explained, walking with her down the street to the city bus stop.

After the bus dropped them off outside the movie theater, Dean paid for Lisa and himself, as well as a bucket of popcorn and a giant soda with two straws. They held hands during most of the movie, regardless of how greasy the popcorn butter had made their fingers, and afterwards Dean took Lisa to McDonalds for something to eat.

The rain was pouring in torrents, but surprisingly, Lisa didn't mind getting soaking wet.

"I like the rain, it's nice." She explained as they shared a McFlurry. Dean nodded seriously, taking a lick from his spoon.

"That's cool. A lot cooler than most girls. I don't think Cas likes the rain too much, but he's weird." Dean joked, trying to laugh and failing. He felt guilty, teasing his best friend without Castiel there to defend himself. "But Castiel's really cool. I'm sure you guys'll get along great." He amended after a moment. Lisa nodded, eating a spoonful of the M&M laden ice cream.

"He seems nice, quiet though."

Dean barked out a laugh, unable to help himself. "Oh, he talks all right. You just gotta know what to say first to get him talkin'." At Dean's words, Lisa laughed softly.

"Okay, I'll take your word for it." She teased. Dean grinned brightly and took another spoonful of McFlurry.

After they'd finished eating, both teens emerged from McDonalds and into the soaking rain. Lisa dragged Dean all over the city, exploring the various shops and strips that were within walking distance. The rain hadn't let up after the second hour, but Dean didn't mind being soaking wet if it meant more time to spend with Lisa.

Five o'clock rolled around soon enough, and Dean parted ways with Lisa at the city bus station -where her dad had shown up to pick her up. Lisa left him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek before climbing into her father's car.

Dean rode the next bus home with a dopey smile on his face, jumping off at the edge of the dirt road leading to his house and making the walk home with leisure. The rain had started to let up, finally, but Dean was soaked to the bone already - not that he cared.

He opened the front door to find everyone clustered in the living room in a group hug.

"What's going on?" He asked. John leapt to his feet, running over to Dean and grabbing him violently by the arms.

"Where have you BEEN?" He roared, shaking Dean with enough force that the boy's head jerked back and forth. Dean squirmed out of his father's grasp.

"Lisa wanted to look around the city for a little while, why?" Dean looked over his dad's shoulder to see his mother holding her mouth and shaking her head, tears streaking her cheeks. Sam was sobbing loudly, clinging to his mother and Adam's cries were just as loud, his head nestled against Sam's stomach.

"Wh-what's going on?" Dean breathed, looking back at his father.  
>"Why is everyone crying?"<p>

John released Dean with a wavering sigh, bringing a hand up to wipe at his face. "Your friend... Castiel... Dean. he's... he fell." The man croaked out, kneeling down to be more level with his son.

Dean's face contorted into a look of worry. "Is he okay? Did he break something? Where did he fall?" His questions went unanswered as John shook his head slowly, grabbing onto Dean once more.

"Dean... he fell during the storm... he hit his head." John paused, breathing in deeply and continuing, "Wherever you boys go after school - that creek filled up. He... his parents said he didn't know how to swim."

Dean's stomach bottomed out, a burning sensation ripping through his entire being. He stepped out of his father's half-embrace. "S-so.. is he at the hospital? He- I mean.. he's okay, right?" Dean's broken question caused Mary to burst into tears, clutching her two younger sons to her body.

Dean's mouth shut with a click and he instantly whirled on his feet, dashing out the door before his father could stop him. Dean ran as fast and as hard as he could; only stopping when he caught sight of the muddy tire marks that lead towards what he and Castiel had come to know as the crossroads. Dean froze in front of the weather-worn scarecrow that was perched between the two paths. Everything he was feeling suddenly bubbled up and Dean started screaming before he could even think of controlling himself.

"Crowley! CROWLEY! IF you're really there, come out! You're a demon, you have to make a deal! You have to bring him back!" The scarecrow remained immobile and Dean's eyes burned with tears - though they mingled with the rain on his cheeks. His chest ached, a pain that shot through his gut and all the way down to his fingertips. Sobs pushed up inside of him, but Dean ignored in his own anger and confusion.

"This can't be one big fucking lie! I know Cas wouldn't make this shit up just to be friends! Where are you? CROWLEY!" Dean screamed, his voice breaking at the end. He reached out to the scarecrow, tugging and pulling it to try and wrench it from the ground. His father's arms were around him in an instant, pulling Dean into a hug he didn't want. Dean fought, shoving and squirming to get free. He didn't stop yelling.

"Crowley! CROWLEY! C- CAS.** CASTIEL!**" Dean sobbed, "YOU SAID YOU WERE AN ANGEL! You said you could protect yourself!" He cried, no longer directing his rage and heartbreak at the wet scarecrow before him. "What about Grace? _WHAT ABOUT ME_! You can't just- you can't just LEAVE like that! Wh- what kind of angel just** LEAVES?**" Dean screamed himself hoarse, dissolving into tears as John clutched his son tightly.

"Dad, he can't be gone." Dean moaned brokenly, releasing a keening wail from the back of his throat. His fingers clutched at John's wet shirt, skin soaking up the man's warmth. John rocked him back and forth, one large hand brushing Dean's wet hair out of his face and the other pulling him into John's lap.

Dean sobbed himself to sleep with the sound of his father's singing 'Hey Jude' in his ears.

* * *

><p>:C<p> 


	4. Epilogue

Dean woke to the scent of bacon and eggs wafting through the air vents. He rubbed at his swollen eyes, looking down at the pajamas his father must have changed him into the night before. There was a dull, burning ache in his gut and chest that wouldn't go away no matter how much Dean rubbed at it.

He slipped out of bed, shuffling downstairs to see everyone sitting quietly at the dinner table. Sam and Adam were both silent, and Dean was surprised to see that his father was sitting at the table as well. John was nose-deep in the newspaper, a mug of coffee occasionally making a trip to his mouth. His mother grinned softly at him, setting down a plate of eggs and sausage in front of Sam.

"Morning, sweetheart. I was just about to wake you up for breakfast. Did you want bacon or sausage?" She asked, gesturing to the plate laden with scrambled eggs that sat next to the stove. Dean pulled out his seat, plopping down in it with a muttered, "bacon, please."

Mary slid two strips of bacon onto Dean's plate and put it before the teenager. Dean ate quietly, ignoring the way everyone was staring at him like he was a loaded bomb. He finished quickly, rinsing off his plate and thundering back upstairs to get his book bag.

He was intercepted on the way out the door by his mother. She grabbed his shoulder, pulling him into a hug. "Its okay, baby. You don't have to go to school today."

Her words struck him as odd, like he couldn't comprehend why school optional. Numbly, Dean muttered into her neck, "It's okay, mom. I feel fine."

Mary shook her head, pulling away and running a hand through his hair. "Are you sure, sweetie?"

Dean nodded, glancing over to his father, who had folded the newspaper back to watch the exchange. Mary released her son, but not before giving him a gentle kiss on his forehead.

She looked over to Sam, who was stirring his eggs around listlessly and then back to Dean. "Sammy's going to stay home today, alright?"

Dean gave her a halfhearted shrug. "I don't care," he murmured, and headed for the door.

"Dean." His father's deep voice barked from the table. Dean turned around in the middle of grabbing the doorknob. John stared him down and Dean returned the look dully.

"Be careful, son." John pulled the newspaper back up to continue reading. Dean took this as an invitation to leave and opened the front door, stepping out into the clear morning sky. There were signs of the rain from the day before, mud streaking the dirt road and thick dew on the grass, but the sky showed nothing but white clouds and a rising sun.

When Dean reached the bus stop, he was alone. Pain struck him at the sight of emptiness where there should have been Castiel waiting patiently. He clenched his teeth, breathing in hollowly and closing tear-prickled eyes. Castiel was just out sick, today. That's it.

Convincing himself that Cas was home in bed, curled up with a bowl of soup and a thermometer, Dean watched the school bus approach slowly. He boarded silently, ignoring the hesitant and shocked look from Mrs. McCreedy, and the stunning silence that ate away at the few students who had gotten on the bus that morning.

Dean sat alone in his seat, but didn't scoot over to the window. Just because Castiel was out sick, didn't mean that Dean should take his spot.

Dean pressed his forehead against the seat in front of him. Things were too weird, everyone was too quiet. Why couldn't things go back to normal?

School was the same story, only bigger. Raphael cornered Dean in the hallway before first period and the Winchester held his ground, ready for a fight.

Instead of swinging, however, Raphael placed the palm of his large hand on top of Dean's head.

"The Lord is with us all, Winchester. All good souls find their place in Heaven." Raphael's words were low, soft. Dean felt anger boil up inside of him and he shoved Raphael's hand off of his head and stomped to his first period class.

The morning announcements came with abruptness, and as his principal's voice echoed over the intercoms, Dean's gut filled with dread.  
>"As many of you know, last night a young student of ours lost his life. Castiel Hatfield, a freshman here, died during the rainstorm. Let us all bow our heads in mourning for this bright soul."<p>

Dean didn't bow his head, but he opened his backpack to grab paper for the morning lesson. His hands grasped something soft, and Dean found himself pulling out his and Castiel's journal instead. Placing it on the desk, Dean opened it silently as the students around him fell into a hushed silence. There was sniffling from a couple students, and one girl was covering her mouth to keep from sobbing loudly.

Dean opened the journal, staring down the drawing Castiel had done of a striga. His precise penwork was immaculate, each line knowing where it was going and how it would connect to the other lines, forming a hooded figure with white eyes.

The sob that escaped him took Dean completely by surprise. He clapped a hand over his mouth as his eyes and nose burned, trying to stifle the second whining cry that his body forced to escape him. The teacher hurried over, placing her hand on Dean's back and Dean ignored it, hunching over his and Castiel's journal. He clutched to it, forehead pressing against the paper and willing Castiel come back.

"It's not fair." Dean whined. He wasn't sure who he was talking to anymore, but he had to tell someone. It wasn't fair that Castiel died. It wasn't fair that anyone died. It wasn't fair to Dean, or Sam, Gabriel or Kali. What had Dean done to have this supposed 'God' take Castiel away? Was it because he didn't believe enough? Or did Castiel believe too much?

Dean hadn't realized he was asking these questions out loud until his teacher crouched down to hug him sideways and murmured, "I don't know, honey. I don't know."

In Science class, Lisa Braeden shot him sympathetic looks the entire time and Dean hated it, hated her. He hated his father for never being there, and he hated Castiel for leaving him. Dean withdrew into himself, focused on his work, and tried to ignore the empty feeling that was eating away at his very being.

The ride home was just as silent as the trip to school had been. He stepped off of the bus to see smoke billowing down the road, gushing from the location Dean knew was Castiel's home.

Dean's feet were running before he could stop himself, bolting down the long and winding road until he was breathless and standing twenty feet from the burning house that Castiel had once lived in. Kali and Gabriel stood a little ways off, watching the firemen trying to put the flames out, Grace's cage clutched in the hands of Castiel's father.

Gabriel, sensing Dean's presence, turned to watch the Winchester boy. He smiled weakly. "Hey kiddo... I guess it looks like it's time for another change of scenery."

Kali said nothing, and Dean looked from them, to the burning house, and back again. Gabriel held up Grace's cage. He looked at the chirping finch for a moment, and then held the cage out to Dean.

"I think..." Gabriel started, his voice hitching at the end. The man cleared his throat and started again. "I think Castiel would want Grace to be free with him, don't you think?"

Gabriel's words struck Dean in a place he'd thought had died with Castiel. He was walking forward instantly, reaching out to hold part of the cage. Gabriel and Kali watched him silently as Dean flipped the latch and opened the door. For a moment, Grace hopped around in his cage, but as soon as the small bird realized it was free, it was bursting out the small opening and into the afternoon sky.

Dean watched Grace disappear into the sunlight, and turned back to see Castiel's parents watching him. Kali stepped forward, looking Dean straight in the eye.

"He loved you, you know. _More than the moon and the sun could compare._" She said. Her voice was clear and sharp, void of any emotion. Dean, taken aback by her demeanor and even more by her words, watched the woman walk away and get inside of the packed car that was parked in the driveway.

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, glancing back at Dean. "Please, don't let this hold you back." He began, "You're a strong kid - you had to be, if Castiel was willing to be your friend." Gabriel set a hand on Dean's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "He's still your friend; you just can't see him or hear him as easily. Listen hard, Dean. okay?" Gabriel's voice was solemn - the most serious that Dean had ever heard the man be - and Dean nodded slowly. Gabriel grinned with watery eyes, patting Dean's shoulder and turning to head for the car with Grace's cage still in hand.

Dean stood silently as Gabriel started up the suburban and pulled out of the driveway, heading down the road. Dean played back everything Castiel's parents had just said to him, looking up at the clear sky and closing his eyes. The sun heated his cheeks and arms, warming up the empty cold that had settled over his entire body.

Dean turned, heading back to the main road and stopping when he reached the crossroads, where Crowley - now crooked in the ground - guarded the road.

Dean made his way down the small and narrow pathway that lead to The Garden, stopping when he caught sight of their wagon, overturned and filled with wood rails and rope. A few rails were hammered into the ground on the edge of the pathway, rope tying them together.  
>Dean laughed dryly, the irony of the situation hitting him. Castiel had come out here to build a fucking railing.<p>

Suddenly struck with motivation, Dean turned the wagon back over and grabbed the next rail and the discarded hammer. He was going to finish what Castiel started.

Hours had passed, and Dean was nearly done when he heard the faint sound of someone calling his name. The voice was garbled over the sound of the river that ran next to the path, but Dean knew who it was.

"CAS!" He cried, dropping his hammer and bolting down the small walkway as fast as he dared. "_CAS!"_  
>Dean stopped mid-run to see his little brother, Sam, standing there and hugging a few papers close to his chest. Sam's eyes were wide and rimmed red, bottom lip trembling.<p>

"Dean, I miss Cas!" Sam whimpered. Dean recognized the papers as a series of drawings Castiel had done for Sam on request. Dean felt anger, first. Anger at Sam for deceiving him, making him think that Castiel was alive. That anger gave way into sorrow upon realizing that Sam had been Castiel's friend, too.

Dean held his hand out, nodding to the pathway. "C'mere Sam."

Sam, still holding Castiel's drawings, hurried over and snatched up his older brother's hand. Dean turned to look at the pathway - complete with a new rope railing - and then down to Sam.

"Have you ever heard the story of a Hunter?" Dean asked his brother softly. Sam sniffled, looking up at Dean with watery eyes and shaking his head.

"No... what do they do?" The ten year old asked quietly.

Dean clutched to Sam's hand. "They keep you safe, and you know they're doing a good job if you don't even know they were there."

**End.**

* * *

><p><strong> I'll just uhm... -holds out a box of tissues- <strong>

**yeah.**


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